A Dream Within a Dream
by Raven Black and Jinks Loather
Summary: Some random rambling I wrote because I love angsty NTRL junk. Despite this, PLEASE reveiw! PLEASE! I think that this is the worst fanfiction I've ever written, and I want to know if you agree! Oneshot.


**A/N: Despite my worshipping of them both, I am neither J.K. Rowling nor Edgar Allan Poe. I just use J.K.R.'s characters make Poe's wonderful poetry look _really_ bad.**

**A Dream Within a Dream**

"_I stand amid the roar  
Of a surf-tormented shore  
And hold within my hand  
Grains of the golden sand  
How few! Yet how they creep  
Through my fingers to the deep  
While I weep…. While I weep!  
O God, can I not grasp them in a tighter clasp?  
O God, can I not save _one_ from the pitiless wave?..."_

It seems strange to contemplate one's own sanity, do you agree? I find that I have done so myself… a number of times, in fact. Questioned my very _life_. This will probably merely come across as the ramblings of one who has been alone too long, to insufferably _broken_ for too long, but it seems almost calming to know that someone, be it someone who I have met or not, has _listened_. Disregard me if you will- as so many have done before. I will fully understand if you choose to do so. Understand that the… story, if you will, that I am to pen is, admittedly, rather _outlandish._

You see, my fair reader, this all really stems from my lycanthropy. It is what gave me my original inability to believe in the sanctity of people. I suppose today that I would not be so hardened against people if I was not cursed, in this particular manner of speaking. I remember as a child, even before I was bitten, I was singularly closed off from others. I now so _wish_ that I had used that short, blessed time to my advantage. I recall how always made a practice of trying to close off all emotion after that truly life-changing event.

But when I came to school, and met my friends, my four benevolent, brilliant friends, it became rather difficult. For a time, after we had dispelled all of our secrets from one another, that I could actually associate with people. That it was indeed possible for others to like me, _completely_ accept me. I almost scoff at such a thought now.

I ask you in all honesty, my dear listener, have _you_ ever lost someone? For days, it seems, weeks, months, even, that there is always a deep sense of isolation. As though no one can understand the depth of your despair. It is like drowning, losing oneself, enveloped only in wistful thoughts and cherished memories. I wonder why, even after the anguish has subsided, that I _still_ feel so far away from people. And _that_, kind sir or miss, is the source of my vaguely poignant questioning. Why can I not allow myself to trust people again? It seems too completely fathomless…. I trusted people once…. Why can I not _now_? Why do I find that I cannot divulge my feelings to others? I sometimes think that this would be the death of me- literally. I can picture it now, a very small obituary in the muggle newspaper telling of how some obscure man who lived alone died of a brain aneurysm purely out of mental stress.

I cannot trust others as I once did- no, people are far too easily lost. I do not want to risk getting hurt again. This is also why I have avoided the situation with Miss Tonks for so long. Not only do I certainly not find any romantic interest with the girl, but even _chancing_ this, for her sake rather than mine, is too dangerous. She has her whole _life_ ahead of her, being the smart young woman that she is. She has an actual chance at living wholly that I never myself had. Is it fair to her, even if she is willing to do so, to throw her future away? To take away _her_ chance? No, I refuse to be that callous. I am sure, after a time, that she would grow to resent me for the consequences of actions she once thought satisfactory. I do not know what I would possibly do if I allowed myself to become close to someone again and see them be taken away just as easily, even if it is not to death.

Though she may think it selfish on my part _now_, she will see. As I have stated, she is exceedingly intelligent. She will understand in time. Even so, it is difficult to see her look so saddened. As though her life is being taken by my _refusal_. I have- almost, mind you- wondered if it would be _better_ to allow her in. Maybe talking to her could help me realize that I still _have_ emotions. For all _I_ know, she could be a saviour, the realization that I have been searching for. But _that_, in itself, is far more selfish than refusing her. Putting on a charade, trying to make sense of my life, by pretending to _love somebody!_ I can never allow myself to _love_! The very thought is blatantly ludicrous. If I merely used her to understand myself again, how would she feel when she found that I had never _really_ loved her?… I shudder at the very thought.

To conclude my ramblings, my thankfully patient acquaintance, I leave you with this: I believe that drowning in misery, no matter how much it seems to hurt you, and make you feel powerless, is better than not feeling at all. As I have noted, the moment when you feel most saddened, most helpless against the world, is when you can feel your heart beating most prominently. What I would only _give_ to experience that powerful, almost defiant feeling again.

"_Is _all_ that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?"_- Edgar Allan Poe

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**A/N: Ha ha! ****Now you see my obsession with desolation all spilled out into one boring, completely senseless fan-fic! You also see my demented theory about the Tonks/Lupin affair. Isn't it _weird_? Also, when I referred to his four friends, I included Lily. As I recall, J.K.R. once said that they were rather close as well as the Marauders were. Shrugs Oh, and, also, forgive my extremely wry humour used when I talk of the brain aneurysm. I wanted to put something that may be interpreted as a _bit_ funny, as vulgar as it may sound. This work makes no sense. It is just my depressing blathering. I loathe it. PLEASE, I implore you, R/R!!**


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